


holding on to the ghost of you

by ghostcing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostcing/pseuds/ghostcing
Summary: John Egbert is dead. Dirk Strider has lost his lifeline.Major trigger warnings, overall, quite angsty.





	holding on to the ghost of you

The Hero of Breath's eyes flutter closed, losing the last fight the boy could ever wish to have. In another timeline, the boy is immortal, frolicking around happily with his best friend. But here, the last intake of oxygen his lungs will ever receive has just been delivered to his body. His figure grows limp against the hard, wooded floor of his bedroom. He is no more; his heart does not simply skip a beat. It stops beating entirely. His brain does not produce or withhold any thoughts. His soul has drifted away, and all that is left is the corpse of a small, cobalt-eyed boy. 

Johnathan Egbert; otherwise known as John. It was only ten years ago that he was given a name at the grand age of thirteen years old. It is a mere ten years later that he has taken his own life. Though it would be rational to call him selfish for making his own father bury his thin frame, you can't say that you blame him. If you weren't too terrified, you'd be in the same boat as him. 

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are twenty-four years old, and John was your best friend. John remains your best friend, actually. You are well aware of the fact that you have more than a fault or so in John's reasoning to abandon you. You two were inseparable, to say the very least. He'd comforted you through everything. The only thing that the unstable boy wanted from you was for you to be okay. He gave you daily reminders to take care of yourself, and you did the same or him. He would have dropped the world for you to smile; for your harmonic melody of a laugh, he'd do anything. To hear the glee in his voice when you called, to see the charm in his eyes when he teased you... You would do anything for the sensations that the boy made you feel over your long-time friendship. He made you feel alive. The only other person who managed to make you feel like the beat in your chest had a purpose was, well, nobody. He was the only being known to man that made you feel loved- that made you love them back.

And you fucked it all up. 

What did you do to repay him? Did you not do something right? Was it your blunt personality that drove him over the edge? You still have so many questions, though, you can assume that you have a right to feel the way you do. You didn't notice when the usual glint to his big blue eyes faded. You didn't take note of how he began to isolate himself from the rest of the world. You assumed he was okay, and just didn't want you around; that somebody else had taken your role in his life. It happened quite often; people leaving and never contacting you again. You simply thought that it was another situation of that manner. 

Oh, were you wrong. You were so, stupidly wrong. 

Now you are left alone in the world, with nobody but your own subconscious keeping you company. The smell of his old self is littering his home as you try so desperately to call him back one last time. His phone rings, but nobody is there to pick it up. You hear it in the other room. You never dare to pick it up. You would *never* even think to do so. 

You miss him. More than anything else you’ve ever missed. You miss his touch, his words. You’re sure he misses you too. He would be the only person to ever miss you. Not in a pathetic, “I wish I could have done more,” way. But in the good way- the type that always kept you alive. 

Your hands find their way to the wall, and before you know it you’re pulling yourself up. You recall John’s hands finding yours to do so- to lift you back up. You try to replace the him with the wall. It doesn’t work. 

It will never work.

Nonetheless, you’re standing now. You find your way to the entrance of his previously claimed bedroom. You haven’t gone in here since the day he passed away. You’ll never forget the shine in his eyes that depleted over that morning. If you’d have noticed sooner, you could have helped him. He would have wanted you to help him. But you didn’t, did you? You let him slip away like the wind in your grasp.

The wind. The wind has always reminded you of him. You’re not sure why. Maybe the freedom and the independence; the way it can be prominent, exhilarating and determined to push its way through, and then vanish as if it were never there. 

You walk inside of the room and take careful examination of your surroundings. He cleaned, you think. Before he died, he cleaned up. The police made sure the room was clean enough to go into. Now that you’re in here, it’s all flooding back. Now that you see his blankets tucked promptly onto his mattress, your heart shatters a little. 

Everything you poured your heart and soul into for so many years.. it’s here again. 

-

”Dirk, you asshole! Give me back my jacket!” 

A particular dork exclaims this, and your eyes dart to meet his. You have the soft, blue fabric of his hoodie clutched to your chest. He’s much taller than you. A foot and some. He’s muscular, too. He smells of fresh linen and coconut. You’ve found this to be your favorite combination of scents.

They’re his, you think. That is why you love them so. 

”I’m freezing, Egbert. You keep it so damn cold in here that hypothermia and my body have become seemingly good friends,” You snicker to yourself as you pull the heavenly item onto your body. It fits so loose that you can feel the sleeves droop to the midst of your almond-colored arms.

You watch his lips curl into a smile, his overbite snipping at his lower lip and showing his glittery teeth, gapped slightly in the middle. It’s cute, you think to yourself. The way his icy blue eyes fixate on you, and the stubble on his chin. It’s a nice look on him. Happy makes him look more.. natural. 

-

As you grasp the fabric of the previously mentioned hoodie, your eyes begin to sting as tears make themselves known. You pull it to your chest as you had so many years ago. The day you felt that maybe.. just maybe.. things would be okay. 

What happened? When did he get so.. bad? The question trails through your thoughts as you pull the cloth up to your face and inhale. Your heart shatters as you take in the scent. Linen and coconut. A little dusty, but still him. You want to keep it for yourself. You’d like to relish in something he left behind. You set it down on the bed for later. 

As your eyes dart over items, they land on his stupid book of magic tricks. He usually never laid a finger on it, but you recall one memory where he did. 

-

["Hey! Dirk? Do you wanna see a trick I’ve been practicing?”

The raven haired boy, fourteen, maybe, runs into the room with a cape tied at his shoulders and a little wizard’s hat on his head. The blues in his eyes glitter as he sets aside the book, that was much too heavy to even laugh at, and uses the plastic wand Rose had gifted him to do.. well, something. 

He has an active imagination. He always has had the mindset of a dreamer. You think it’s cool. He gives you the ideas and you bring them to life. That’s how it’s always been. 

-

Your cheeks are sticky as you blow dust off of the hard covered book. Crystalline tears continue to drip down, and you try to constrain the sobs that escape your throat. 

God, he was your world. You should have told him while he was alive.. or, while you still had the chance. 

You hate yourself for crying. He would hate you for crying, too. All he ever wanted was someone to care for him in the way he did others. And you tried. You tried your damndest to let him know that you cared about him. Suicide really is a tough way to go. He deserved better- No. You cut yourself off mid-thought. He deserved the best. 

You place the book back in its previously mentioned spot and continue your search. That is, until you find a piece of paper crumbled up in the trashcan. Ink is splattered on it, as if a pen had busted.

You grab it. At the top, it says John’s name. There are a few stains on the page- likely from water. And the ink is smudged in several spots. 

" hey, i guess this really is the worst thing i could do. i told everyone else not to do it, yet heeeeeeeeere i am.."

He rambles about how he never thought he’d be good enough. All he was was a failure of a person. You shake your head at this. No, no no. John was amazing. He was perfect and handsome and well.. just, amazing. You sit back against the bed as you read over what you’re able to comprehend. 

"i guess i should say i’m really sorry, dirk. i know you’re gonna be amazing! please don’t take this too hard. i know you’re going to anyways, but i need you to be okay. thrive for me and prove to me that you’re as amazing as i think you are. i love you, man. more than anything else on the planet. please, never forget that.... except for maybe nic cage. i really love nic cage. "

You’re bawling, hand clasped over your mouth as you do. This must’ve just been a draft, but damnit.. John really was a dork. A Nicholas Cage loving weirdo. 

Your heart aches worse now, though. You want him to be proud of you, but you’re not sure how to go about making that happen..

You drop the crumbled paper to the bed and groaned. You pulled the hoodie on and held yourself close to it. It wasn’t the same as a warm embrace from John. 

Nothing would ever count as a warm embrace from him. 

As you lay back against the pillows, you shut your eyes and curl your knees to your chest. He’s all you can think about as the tears stream and your heart disintegrates. 

This is when you realize, when you finally come to the conclusion that.. well..

You loved him too.

You’re drifting off now, into a slumber you can only call your own as he courses through your veins and takes over your head. You like to think he’s cuddled up behind you, head nestled in the crook if your neck. But he’s not. 

He never will be now. 

But you understand. You know now why people become angels or devils or whatever else in between. He was an angel; a saint amongst men who was desperate to go home. And home he shall stay, with whatever got or new life he has created for himself. He is not here with you. You loathe this, but you also know that.. 

Someday, you’ll be reunited with your soulmate. 

And until that day comes, you’ll wait.

**Author's Note:**

> yoyoyo! i've been working on this over the course of a few weeks and i really do hope y'all enjoy it. i may do a second chapter if it's enjoyed enough- ;0


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